


oh baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you

by breedlejuice



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Confessions, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breedlejuice/pseuds/breedlejuice
Summary: Iwaizumi and Oikawa have spent long, lazy summer's side by side, sharing baths and tears and sand buckets at the beach. Distance does not, cannot erase such a rich history. They couldn’t get rid of one another, even if they wanted to. So, they communicate every day, sending “good morning” texts and selfies and “I’m thinking of you”s. But they haven’t spent hours awake at night on the phone like Oikawa wishes that they would.He misses Iwaizumi. All the fleeting moments in-between his obligations are spent missing him. He misses lunchbox days and scraped knees. He misses knowing that someone will be there to kiss the parts of him that ache when he’s hurt.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 76





	oh baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you

Oikawa has worn a plethora of faces. He’s tried on confidence and carelessness. He’s tried on bedroom eyes and wicked smiles, fakefake sweet like candy and cream. The job of acting like someone he’s not is heavy. He can’t tell you when he started pretending, but he knows that he’s tired of doing it. He’s tired of the knots in his stomach, of the lurching and aching behind his ribs. Smile after smile, flaunting and fighting and running from eyes that stare for too long. 

He shuts his laptop with a small, defeated sigh before standing up from his desk, stretching his overworked limbs. He’s been working on physics homework for hours, and his head is reeling. There’s so much left to do, numbers and due dates dancing behind his eyelids, but he can’t work on empty forever. He finds his eyes gravitating towards the photo on his bedside table. Iwaizumi’s tan, smiling face stares back at him from a wooden frame. He’s handsome in an effortless way, with golden skin and gemstone eyes. He studies his own face next to Iwaizumi, the natural curve of his lips. He looks _happyhappy_ there, not plastic happy. It makes his heart hurt.

Oikawa knew that attending different universities would be hard for him. Its been four months now since moving to Tokyo, since packing his little Miyagi life into boxes and suitcases. He lives alone now and sometimes it’s okay. Oikawa’s apartment is quiet but comfortable, decked with fluffy pillows and glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars. Some nights, Oikawa sings in the kitchen while he boils water for chamomile tea in a little blue teapot he bought on sale. Other nights, he’s awake until the early morning, eyes bloodshot from tears and restlessness. Days are up and down, coming wave after wave, but his down days are six feet deep.

It’s not “normal” to starve himself for getting a 75 on a quiz. It’s not “normal” that Oikawa pinches at his thighs, his hips, his arms, pulling and searching for imperfections that others would insist are “all inside his head.” They’re right. His mind is a powerful place and it’s not often kind. He _knows_ that, though. Not being able to _get out_ of his head is the problem. Oikawa should tell someone. His fingertips burn with the desire to speak up when he’s responding to friends and family. He always wills their concerns away with easy lies instead. It’s like there’s a block of ice in his throat. 

(“I already ate!” “I just had a long day, that’s all!” “I’ve got practice, sorry. We’ll catch up soon!” “I’m drained, Mom. But I’m doing good.”)

Iwaizumi is a different story. Iwaizumi is butterflies and substantial warmth, the kind that never dulls in winter. He’s Oikawa’s best friend and the man he’s fallen in love with, even though Iwaizumi doesn’t know it. If he knows anything at all, it’s that when asked for the truth, he _cannot_ lie to that boy. Lucky for him (not so lucky) he hasn’t needed to lie. Not really, anyway. They haven’t talked on the phone in 3 months and 14 days, since before he started aching the most. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been too busy with classes and finding their way in waves of foreign faces and unfamiliar streets. They have new teammates, new professors, and new expectations placed on their shoulders, all of which seem to be getting harder for Oikawa to meet. 

So, Oikawa watches Iwaizumi through Snapchat stories and Instagram pictures, through pining eyes and trembling lips. It is not as though they don’t talk at all. It’s the opposite, actually. Iwaizumi and Oikawa have spent long, lazy summer's side by side, sharing baths and tears and sand buckets at the beach. Distance does not, cannot erase such a rich history. They couldn’t get rid of one another, even if they wanted to. They communicate every day, sending “good morning” texts and selfies and “I’m thinking of you”s. But they haven’t _talked,_ haven’t spent hours awake at night on the phone like Oikawa _wishes that they would._ Oikawa misses Iwaizumi. All the fleeting moments in-between his obligations are spent missing him. He misses lunchbox days and scraped knees. He misses knowing that someone will be there to kiss the parts of him that ache when he’s hurt. 

Oikawa wraps his blanket around himself tighter, clambering into bed with eager limbs. His head hurts but he’s done with his work for the night, miraculously. He should eat dinner. He knows he should probably take another shower, too. When’s the last time he’s eaten today? Oikawa thinks back to the afternoon, thinks back to himself choking down a chocolate chip protein bar and a black iced coffee before practice. His limbs protest at the prospect of standing once more. He’ll make some instant ramen later. He’ll care more one day. 

With an exhausted sigh, he sinks further into his mattress. It feels like the bed will swallow him whole. A dark, whispering part of himself wants it to. 

While fumbling his hand inside of his bedsheets to find the television remote, Oikawa hears his phone “ping” with an indication of a new text. Iwaizumi’s contact name flashes on his phone and his heart leaps, jumps, _soars_ at the sight, a weary but affectionate smile pulling itself onto his face. 

9:04pm **Iwa-chan :) <3: Hi, Sleepykawa. You look tired in that selfie you sent earlier. Make sure that you rest up well tonight or I’ll have to punch you. :P**

9:05pm _Toru <3: You wound me. Hi, Iwa-chan :) yeah, I’m kinda tired from practice today. Finals are coming up soon and the studying is brutal. :/ but it’s nothing I can’t handle, Mom ~ _

9:07pm **Iwa-chan :) <3: I’m not your Mom, stupid. Stop talking shit. **

9:08pm _Toru <3: Rude! :( _

9:10pm **Iwa-chan :) <3: Oh shut up, you love it. **

9:10pm **Iwa-chan :) <3: I miss your voice. Call me? :)**

9:12 _Toru <3: I thought you’d never ask! :D it’s quite rude of you to have kept me waiting so long, you know. For shame. I’m wounded. _

9:14 **Iwa-chan :) <3: You’re a brat. You could’ve called me, too. Now hurry up. **

Iwaizumi picks up on the second ring. Oikawa tries to shove down the joy that fills his chest but it’s impossible. “Kawa?” Iwaizumi breathes into the phone. He sounds excited and soft and oh, the _longing_ that Oikawa feels for him. Oikawa lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Hey, Iwa-chan! ~” he chirps, cheerful and saccharine. It both amazes and terrifies him, the amount of joy Iwaizumi can bring. Iwaizumi chuckles on the other end. “I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed hearing that stupid nickname.” 

“Rude! It’s not stupid, it’s charming. You’re _clearly_ just cursed with bad taste.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_.”

Just like that, they’re bantering as though it hasn’t been over 3 months since they’ve last heard one another speak, as if they’ve never even left each other’s sides. Iwaizumi tells him about his Statistics professor, the one who gives tough exams that he can never seem to comprehend. He tells Oikawa about the barren trees outside and the rude next-door neighbors in his Kyoto apartment building. And for once, Oikawa finds that he has little to add. He’s content to listen to Iwaizumi’s ranting about equations and the noisy sex his neighbors have at 2 am. Oikawa could be happy listening to Iwaizumi read the phone book. A comfortable silence settles between them as Iwaizumi’s ramblings begin to slow. It isn’t awkward or stuffy; it’s familiar, like the touch of a mother’s hand on her child’s forehead. 

“I miss you, Tooru. Its been way too long since we’ve spoken properly.” Iwaizumi blurts, and the words are ripping off the blanket of _hush hush_ peace. He sounds so sincere that it’s painful because Oikawa _wants_ to be missed, if he’s being missed by someone so good. He likes the way his name sounds in Iwaizumi’s mouth. Oikawa swallows. It’s much harder to breathe now. “I feel like life hasn’t been as exciting lately, which is crazy because I’m _so_ busy. I shouldn’t even have the time to be bored but I think it’s because you aren’t around me. My teammates are nice enough, I guess. And I definitely like my classes, but... I like being around you more. I want to be around you more than ever right now, honestly. I’m sorry that I haven’t called. I don’t even know what’s been keeping me from doing it. I should’ve done it sooner. I feel happier right now than I have in a week.” Iwaizumi finishes. He sounds shy. Oikawa hates how much it makes him _want._

Oikawa breathes in deeply and closes his eyes, flopping back against his pillows. “You do?” He mumbles shyly. His voice sounds smaller, more fragile than he intends, but he can’t cover it up now. Iwaizumi scoffs on the other line, as though Oikawa merely _thinking_ to doubt him is ridiculous. It’s all the reassurance he needs. 

Oikawa can hear the rustling of blankets through the phone. He can imagine Iwaizumi now, bundled up in that same green sweater he always wears around the house. He’s had it for years and it never stops looking good at him, no matter how many pulls it gathers over time. It is _this_ part of knowing Iwaizumi- knowing his habits, and the way that he looks in sleep ruffled sweaters- that makes the miles between them ache the most. Before Iwaizumi can reply, Oikawa speaks involuntarily. “The green sweater. Are you wearing it?” A beat of silence plays. 

Iwaizumi huffs out a fond laugh. “Weirdo. You know me too well. Yeah, m’ wearing it.” Oikawa flips onto his stomach, working a lock of messy hair between his fingers. 

“I’ve always liked that sweater, you know.” 

“I know you do. I’m surprised you didn’t steal it when you moved.” 

“Rude! I would do no such thing.” 

“Yeah, right. Half of your closet is full of hoodies you stole from me.”

“Stole? Please, I’m merely borrowing them.” 

“You’ve had my blue sweater with the pocket for _5 years._ ”

“Whatever! This is bullying.” 

“You know it’s true, Dorkykawa.”

“And you call _me_ the brat.” 

Iwaizumi’s laughter stuns him to silence. He wants to bottle the sound. Oikawa can’t do anything but smile and laugh alongside him. “Some things will never change about you, Tooru.” Their laughter subsides and that warm, familiar quiet is back before Oikawa speaks. He hums in thought, snuggling deeper into his blankets; deeper into the safe lull of Iwaizumi’s presence. “Yeah, well. Some things will never change about you, either.” 

“And what things are those?” 

“The best kind of things about you.” _Everything about you is the best,_ is what he wants to say. 

“Anyways. You don’t really know how nice it is to hear you say that, Hajime.” he murmurs. “Because I miss you all of the time.” His breath hitches. Oikawa wonders if Iwaizumi feels the same throb of longing inside his chest. “Tooru… I need to see you, Tooru. I miss your face.” 

A pause. “Oh.” 

“‘...Oh??’”

“Yes, _oh_. Just— you miss my face?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” 

“ _Duh_ . I have ears, you know. It’s just- my face is very whatever? And it’s _you,_ Iwa-chan. I can’t imagine you missing my face.” 

“... you _can’t_ imagine your face being missed? Umm, who are you and what have you done with Tooru? You _love_ compliments.”

Oikawa chuckles but it sounds pained, even to his own ears. “Haven’t I always been annoying and self-deprecating, Iwa-chan?” He half jokes. “This should come as no surprise.” The air is thick. His bones tremble with traces of honesty. “Maybe self-deprecating, yeah. But you’ve never been annoying. And you’ve never doubted my words, either.” He responds like it’s easy. It’s not easy. 

“Tooru, you know I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.”

“I know. And I don’t doubt you.”

“So, who are you doubting then?” 

“...I don’t really know.”

“Okay. Let’s FaceTime.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“ _What?_ No, Iwa-chan. I’m _so_ ugly right now, I’m not even prepared. At least let me cha-”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to shut up. You’re _never_ ugly. I’ve seen you with dried vomit on _my_ shirt that you borrowed and wore to Kuroo’s house party last year. You know, when you drank too much of that shitty rum? Even after I told you not to drink anymore? You _still_ weren’t ugly, not even then. Now, I’m FaceTiming you in 5 minutes. You _better_ pick up, or I’m telling your sister you stole her hairdryer and brought it with you to Tokyo.” 

“ _You wouldn’t!_ I love that hairdryer. Alright. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in a second.” 

** 

5 minutes have gone and passed, and Oikawa is staring back at a certain raven-haired someone on FaceTime. Looking at Iwaizumi through the lens of his cell phone is different, but it doesn’t stop butterflies from congregating in his stomach. He wonders, absently, if anything could. Iwaizumi waves and flashes him a small smile. _That fucking handsome face._ “Hey, Iwa-chan” he coos sleepily, waving back with an enthusiasm he’d be foolish to hide. Pearly white teeth peek from behind full lips. That once small smile grows wide. “I thought you were supposed to look ugly. I don’t see anyone ugly, I just see a liar.” Oikawa gasps in fake offense. Iwaizumi giggles. 

“I am _not_ a liar. Beauty is subjective, anyway! You are _so_ rude, Hajime.”

“And you, Tooru, are _so_ easy to tease.” 

They talk for hours about everything and nothing. They talk about the teammates they like and the ones that they don’t. They reflect on childhood memories, on autumn leaves, and on which Animal Crossing villagers are their favorites. 

(‘You kind of look like Marshall, Iwa-chan.’

‘That little cream squirrel? Why him?’

‘Well, he has a grumpy face and he’s cute. His eyes are green, too.’ 

‘Oh, shut up. I do _not_ have a grumpy face. And I’m _not cute_ , either.’ he grumbles. 

Oikawa snickers under his breath. ‘Yet, you say this with the _grumpiest expression ever._ How convincing!’ 

‘You’re an ass.’

‘I’m a fucking _delight,_ thank you very much.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah. I guess you are.’ ) 

Oikawa imagines that the butterflies living inside of him have green wings. They must match the same eyes that have taken him apart, time after time. 

If it weren’t for his phone's dwindling battery and the occasional notification, it would feel as though Iwaizumi is right across from him. It isn’t until close to 1:00 am that Iwaizumi rests his head on his forearm, staring at Oikawa through the screen with worried eyes. “What’s been going on with you, Kawa?” Oikawa blinks slowly. “What do you mean? You have to elaborate more than that, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi sighs, chewing his bottom lip in the way he does when he’s trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t really know, honestly. Your eyes just seem so _sad_ in your selfies, sometimes. And it’s confusing because I _know_ you. You’ve seemed okay throughout this phone call, you’ve been seeming okay in your text messages. But I _know_ that there’s something you aren’t telling me. I can feel it.” Oikawa laughs a bit at that, leaning his cheek against his palm. His heart thrums loud inside his chest. “What are you, a psychic?” Iwaizumi’s glare only makes him laugh harder. “No, but I _am_ your best friend. I know you better than you know yourself, you ass. Be serious.” He bites. Oikawa flinches involuntarily, and Iwaizumi looks like he’s sorry. He shouldn’t be. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that so rudely. It came out bad.” Oikawa smiles, sad and fond and _so tired._ He wants to sob. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” 

“I’m just. Fuck, I’m so _worried_ about you! Day and night, week after week. I’m not there with you, you know? And I’m so busy but I care _so much_ about you. About how you’re doing.”

Oikawa visibly bristles at this, feeling small. 

“You don’t have to worry so much then. It’s like you said, you’re busy and I’m only getting in your way. Your time is valuable.”

“Come on, you _know_ that isn’t what I meant.” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just- I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to get in the way. It's why I haven’t called you before now.” 

“Tooru. You could _never_ get in my way. I _want_ you in my way. I want you everywhere, all of the time. Okay?” 

“...okay, Hajime. Okay.”

“Okay. So, talk to me.”

“Hajime, I’m fine.”

“Tooru, _please_. You aren’t fine. What’s up?” 

Oikawa swallows. His eyes sting, and the truth is _right there._ The truth is this hungry little demon, clawing and biting for something more to break. How can he tell the truth when the truth is a monster? How can he lie? “Fuck. I don’t even _know,_ is the thing. Like, it's so much but so little, all at the same time. Does that make any sense?” He pauses to peek up at Iwaizumi through the camera. He nods encouragingly, offering a sad upturn of his lips. Oikawa returns it weakly and his fingers tremble. There’s no turning back now. 

There is a lapse of silence, and Iwaizumi is the first to break it. “That makes sense, yeah. Keep talking though. I can tell that you’re overthinking already. It’s _just me_ , Tooru. You can tell me anything, remember?” Oikawa sucks his teeth at this, eyes clamping shut. “That’s the _problem_ , though. It’s _you_ .” Iwaizumi blanches, a strangled noise passing his lips as he fumbles for words. “I- Tooru, what do you even _mean_ by that? Did I do something wrong?” 

“No! No, you _never_ do anything wrong and that’s part of the problem, too. Because I am _so_ wrong and _so_ messed up inside. I feel like everything about me is all _wrong._ I can’t fucking lie to you. But I know if I tell you- I run the risk of losing you, and there is too much to lose. I cannot lose you, Hajime.” 

“You won’t. You _won’t,_ Tooru, never.” Iwaizumi soothes. His words are tempting and inviting. He is an umbrella in a rainstorm, he is shelter and heat. 

“Okay. Okay, just- fuck! Fuck, I feel like I look so together all the time. And I _hate_ that about me. Yeah, parts of me still have it together, but _fuck,_ if it isn’t hard to not just lay down and give up sometimes or _what?_ College is so much. Practice is so much. Everything is so fucking much, _too fucking much._ There is talent everywhere. I feel like all I can do is trudge by and hope I’m even _half_ as good enough, in comparison to everyone else. And yeah, I’m together enough to know what’s happening to me. Like, I already know that I shouldn’t overwork. I already know that I’m tired. I know that this shitty cycle isn’t healthy. But I also know that I want to stop everything, but I can’t because I will _never finish it all_ if I do.” He pauses to wipe at his eyes, sniffling quietly. 

“I want to be enough for everything that I want. I want to be good enough to go to the Olympics. I want to be enough for my parents, I want to be good enough to graduate with a high GPA, and I want to be enough for _you._ ”

“ _Tooru,_ you have always been enough for me.”

“I don’t mean as your friend. _Not_ as a friend. _Fuck_ , Iwa, I love you. I’m _in love_ with you. And you are far away now. I’ve had you by my side since we were little kids. How do you just adjust to not having that anymore? How do you get used to that, Iwa?” 

“I _haven’t_ gotten used to not having you here, when did I say that I have?”

“You didn’t say that, but- I miss you so fucking much that it kills me. I miss walking to school together, I miss impromptu sleepovers. I miss the mere fucking _sight_ of you next to me and knowing that you’re _right there_ . I was okay with not having you in the way that I wanted if it meant you were still by my side. But _fuck,_ I feel like I can’t have _anything_ now, you know? I cannot have you here with me, or the career that I want, or the grades that I want. I’m so fucking average at everything, and it _really_ sucks. My parents told me my whole life that I’m going _nowhere_ if I don’t do something extravagant. If I don’t work harder, push faster. But all I fucking want is to feel like I’m loved and to feel like enough when I’m doing _nothing. Nothing at all._ I am so tired of needing to be perfect because I am so _ugly_ under this fake ass mask that I wear. Why can’t someone love me for getting out of bed, or for eating a sandwich, or for taking a shower? Why do I have to do something magnificent to be worth it?” Oikawa pauses, sucking air into his lungs. His chest is heavy and Iwaizumi looks like he’s seen a ghost. Maybe he has. 

“I can’t _do anything_ magnificent, Iwa. So, does that mean that I’m nothing??” He whispers weakly. The words hang between them in the air, dangling from thin strings. Oikawa doesn’t know what he expects to hear. He doesn’t know what words are coming his way, but out of everything that Iwaizumi could say, this is the last thing he expects. 

“Tooru, did you eat today?” Oikawa stares at him as though he has 4 heads, and Iwaizumi stares back without hesitation. His cheeks are pink but his eyes are calm. Oikawa treads lightly with his response. “Yeah..? Yeah, I ate.” He mumbles, sounding as confused by the question as he feels. Iwaizumi looks like he doesn’t believe him and it makes his skin itch. He thinks back to the instant ramen he was supposed to make for himself at 8:00 pm. The clock reads 1:57 am. He hates being so seen. “Okay. So, what did you eat then?”

“I had a chocolate chip protein bar and some coffee.”

“Coffee doesn’t count as food but I’m choosing to ignore that for now. What else?”

“Some grapes in class.”

“Okay, what else?”

Oikawa’s silence speaks for him. Iwaizumi’s eyes look hurt and heavy. He can see the wheels turning in his brain. “Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go into your kitchen right now, and you’re going to make something to eat. It doesn’t have to be big or extravagant, but it needs to be something more than a protein bar. And while you eat it, you’re going to listen to me talk. I have a lot to say to you, Tooru, and I want to start speaking before I lose my mind keeping it all in. So, get up and get into that kitchen.” He nods tiredly and stands on wobbly legs, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders like a cape. He rustles around in his cabinet for a while before settling on some shrimp flavored instant ramen. It is quiet while the water boils, the only sounds in the room being their mingling breath and the wind outside. Oikawa puts the ramen into a bowl wordlessly, pouring a glass of water to go alongside it. Iwaizumi watches him as he takes his first bites of food. It should feel uncomfortable, being studied like this. He’s always hated when people stare but it doesn’t bother him if it’s Iwaizumi. 

“I first realized I was in love with you when I saw you in that big, fluffy robe you have. You know, the pink one?” Iwaizumi whispers, soft and fond. Oikawa pauses his chewing to gape at him. Iwaizumi merely shoots him a stern look in reply, cocking up an eyebrow as if to say _listen to me speak for once, idiot_. He stays quiet. Iwaizumi’s eyes trail down his face before continuing his story. 

“It was our first year of high school. I was stressed out about some English exam that I didn’t do well on. I remember how I acted like a dick that _whole_ day because of that. After I got back my test results, I even skipped practice for the first time. You and I got into our first real argument because of that. You told me that you wanted me to take practice seriously because I was _‘too good to half-ass things.’_ I walked home alone for the first time since we were 6-year-olds that day. I was _so_ pissed off because I thought you’d _never_ understand what it was like to be average. You’ve always been _so_ smart, Tooru. You’ve always been bright in _every single way_. You have the looks, you have the grades, you have the personality. You have it all, and for a while, I thought that I hated it.” he explains. “After a while, I realized that it wasn’t hate; it was pure adoration for you and all that you are.”

Iwaizumi looks nervous now but he continues on. “I had ragged on you _so much_ that day. Even now, years later, I still regret it. Do you know what you did? Even after I called you an asshole to your face when you didn’t deserve it, you showed up at my door that night with my favorite cookies and your school bag. You were dressed in that stupid pink robe. We went up to my room, and you stayed awake with me until 2 am to work through every single question that I got incorrect. You could’ve yelled at me. You could’ve hit me, you could’ve called me a jackass, and you would’ve been justified. But you didn’t. And when I needed to cry, you hugged me. You didn’t say anything until I stopped. And when I finally did stop, you know what you said?” 

Oikawa can’t see through his tears. He _knows_ what he said. He remembers this exact fight like it was only yesterday. He scrubs at his eyes with a trembling hand and nods his head at Iwaizumi, who’s begun to get choked up himself. They speak at the same time, their voices warm and right and _together_. 

“You aren’t enough for yourself today, but you’re enough for me _always_.”

“That’s right. Now, listen well when I say this next part because if you remember anything at all from this conversation, I want it to be this: I am in love with you, Oikawa Tooru. _Hopelessly_ in love with you, if you want me to be all poetic about it. You’ll never love yourself half as much as I wish you would, but I want to try and get you part of the way there. You deserve to see the way you shine and to love that pretty fuckin’ face of yours as much as I always have. All of this talk about not being good enough, about not being magnificent? That’s _bullshit_ . You’ve _always_ been magnificent to me and more, Tooru, whether that’s through dominating a volleyball court or eating a bowl of ramen at 2:34 am, even though I know it’s hard for you.” 

Oikawa whines deep in his throat. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Iwaizumi nods earnestly. He’s always been so honest. How could he have ever doubted him? “I think you’re the prettiest, Tooru.” 

Oikawa is full-on wailing now, hiding his face into the crook of his elbow as the tears fall. Iwaizumi’s peel of fond laughter cuts through the room. It settles over Oikawa and into his stomach. He’s never been so hungry for a sound, for a voice, for _someone_. He pushes the empty bowl away from himself with his free hand. 

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “Did you uh- did you finish your food?” Oikawa looks up from his arm to stare at him. Iwaizumi’s eyes are no less wet than his own. His cheeks are kissed with crimson, and he thinks that he’s never looked so beautiful before. There is a deep, profound comfort in knowing that he is just as gone for him, just as in love with him. Oikawa wants to be gone for him forever. “I love you too, Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever know a world where I’m not.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa grins cheekily at that. He reaches for a tissue from the box across his kitchen table, patting at the corners of his eyes. “Who would’ve thought that you could be so _romantic_ , Hajime? You made me cry! So rude. I think you should take responsibility.” Iwaizumi snorts, standing up from his chair to stretch his limbs. “Oh, I’m _so sorry_ , your highness. What could I ever do to make it up for you?” He teases, batting his eyes in a playful way that shouldn’t look so good but _fuck_ , does it look good. 

Oikawa follows the contours of Iwaizumi’s body through the screen with wanting eyes. The movement of his strong, toned arms; the sharp angle of his jaw; his full lips. Iwaizumi is sculpted and strong in all of the right places. He’s _perfect_. He catches Oikawa’s gaze and his face floods with brilliant shades of color, rosy red and pink. Blushing looks good on him, like most things do. He wants to see so much more of him. 

“I could think of a few things,” Oikawa says coyly. 

Iwaizumi smirks at that. His eyes twinkle with mirth and something that looks like forever. “Oh? And what might those things be?”

“Well, you can start by kissing me. You’ve kept me waiting long enough, after all.” 

“I think I’d like that. I’d love it, actually.” 

They gaze at each other for what feels like hours and yet, it is not long enough. No amount of time looking at him could be enough for Oikawa. The butterflies in his stomach are a welcome weight. He imagines that their green wings are sparkling and glittering, with all of the light from their love. 

And then, Iwaizumi is standing from his bed and walking towards his door, pulling a jacket off of his coat rack. The movement is sudden and jarring. Oikawa jerks his head towards the clock on his wall to check the time. 3:45 am. 

“Hajime. Do you even know how _late_ it is? What are you doing?” 

“I’m well aware of how late it is. You haven’t been talking to yourself for the past few hours, dork. I’m putting on a coat. What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Yeah, but— _why_??” 

“What do you mean _‘why?’”_ We just confessed our feelings for each other after 4 years of me pining and you think I’m going to _wait_ here? No way. I’ll be on the next train over.” Iwaizumi says this matter-of-factly. Oikawa watches his movements with stunned eyes as his friend (boyfriend?) pulls a jean jacket over his arms. He loves him.

“Now, where are my keys?” 

“But. But it’s Wednesday. Well, technically it’s Thursday, but—” 

“My Tooru knows the days of the week? When did he get so smart?” 

Oikawa’s heart leaps into his throat. ‘ _My Tooru_.’ 

“You’ve gotten to be so _rude_ , Hajime— I— wait wait, but— you have-“ 

“Classes? Practice? Yeah. They’ll both survive the next 2 days without my attendance. I’ll go back home on Sunday or something. I’d stay over Monday night too, but I have a lab Tuesday morning.” 

“... and you won’t get in trouble? Because Hajime, I’m _not_ letting you get in trouble for me, I won’t allow i-” 

“No, I won’t. Now, are you going to stop freaking out? Tooru, I’ve waited _years_ for this moment. We’ve been dancing around each other for so long now. It’s clear that you have a lot going on in your head, too. But with us, it can be so _simple_. Let us need each other without thinking about it so much, alright?” 

A roaring fire has been lit inside of him. 

“Okay. Hajime, I need you.” His voice cracks on the words but he doesn’t care because it feels good to finally say them. For the first time in months, in _years_ , he’s telling the whole truth. The ice in his throat is melting. There’s so much left for Oikawa to say, and so much healing yet to come. He would be a fool to think that the hurt is going to disappear just because his love for Iwaizumi is returned. There are too many miles he has walked feeling burdensome for all of it to go away. There will be therapy appointments and painful conversations before real healing starts. But right now, underneath the warm light of a new chapter, he feels good. He hasn’t felt good in so long. 

“2 hours, Tooru. 2 and a half tops. Okay? Can you hang tight until then?” 

Oikawa smiles fondly, squeezing at the edge of his table to keep himself from squealing. There is a giddiness bubbling inside of his chest. He nods his head and looks through the phone with glossy eyes. 

“2 hours. I can do that.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my babies! It has been years since I've last posted a fic. I've been getting a lot of messages from some of you wondering where I've been. The short answer is college. But I'm on winter break right now, so I'll be posting lots in the coming months. :) 
> 
> \- Bee  
> :


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